


Obligation

by SunnySidesofBlue



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Angst, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Nobility with messed-up priorities, Oral Sex, Parental emotional abuse, Peer Pressure, Rape, Rape that isn't considered such by society, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-01
Updated: 2015-01-01
Packaged: 2018-03-04 18:39:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3081746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunnySidesofBlue/pseuds/SunnySidesofBlue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mirage’s sire wants the support of a wealthy senator to further his political career. If the price for that is giving the senator his son’s seals, then so be it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Obligation

**Author's Note:**

> This story was inspired by a short ficlet someone posted on tfanonkink about a year ago (please [read here](http://tfanonkink.livejournal.com/11556.html?thread=13925668#t13925668) for context, the italicized parts). I immediately fell for the horror of the situation Mirage had been put in and the anon who wrote it gave me leave to elaborate. OCs Jubilation and Mercury belong to the original author.

Mirage was still in some kind of half-incredulous daze when he finally stepped through the door into senator Jubilation’s lavish, borderline ostentatious apartment. He was struggling to comprehend the fact that his sire had sent him away alone with a mech he, Mirage, had never even met before, and who obviously had interests and intentions ranging way beyond philosophical discussions. Usually Mirage, like any young noblemech, was discretely chaperoned wherever he went, even when meeting friends or instructors he had known since he was a sparkling. Most of the time he didn’t even reflect on them being there but now he suddenly felt exposed and vulnerable without their shadowy presence.

It didn’t make things any better that there hadn’t been time for him to talk to his sire between four optics, without the senator being present, before they left. The only clear instruction he’d received was to behave – with a strong undercurrent of ‘or else’ – but that really wasn’t helping. In any other circumstance the right way to act if someone made advances was to call for his guards, run if he could, fight if he had to but under no circumstances allow any mech to take advantage of him.

And yet, his sire had ordered him to go with the senator, even though he must have understood what that would result in.

Mirage was not stupid, nor ignorant of the sometimes very shadowy aspects of the world of politics. He understood, from an intellectual point of view, his sire’s need to secure himself the support of someone powerful and influential to further his career. On the other hand, there were few things that could damage a family’s reputation as much as the revelation that one of their younglings hadn’t made it into adulthood and a respectable bond with their seals intact. Was Mercury really willing to take that risk in order to gain the senator’s favour?

As the transport had brought them further from home and closer to Jubilation’s residence the political and social aspects had begun to give way to more personal feelings. Mirage had tried to convince himself that it was unworthy to put his own misgivings about the whole thing in front of the interest of the family but had quickly lost that battle. Apart from the clinical information that had been part of his education and some gossip he’d picked up here and there he knew next to nothing about interfacing, and he wasn’t supposed to at this stage in his life. He was just about to finish the final level of his elementary educational program - which basically consisted of cramming in as much data as possible – and was then supposed to spend a few vorns “acclimatizing” in the real world, gaining the social experience that would turn all that fact into knowledge. Only once he was comfortable in that role should the question of bonding and, by extension, interfacing come up.

And yet, here he was, standing in an unfamiliar apartment, in the company of a mech he only knew by name and reputation, and instructed to ‘behave or else’.

Apprehensive didn’t even begin to describe what he was feeling.

“Come here, young one,” Jubilation said, gently ushering Mirage through another door into what turned out to be a large living room. “There’s no need to be nervous around me. Even though I am famous I can assure you I’m just a mech like any other.”

Mirage suddenly felt an almost irresistible urge to laugh, or cry, or something in between; did the mech really think Mirage was tense just because he was in awe of the senator’s power and wealth? True, the fact that Jubilation was who he was didn’t exactly help but it was so far down the list of things that made the younger mech uncomfortable right now that it made very little practical difference.

“Would you like some highgrade? I have some very fine blends here.”

Mirage didn’t, but he couldn’t find a courteous way of saying no so he accepted the offer and soon found himself sipping a cube of strong and very bitter fluorescent liquid. It burned on his glossa but he dutifully swallowed anyway and nodded in faked gratitude towards his host.

He felt the highgrade almost turn and come back up when he saw Jubilation sit down on the couch and pat his lap, indicating just where he wanted Mirage to be.

_Oh no, please, not so soon, I’m not ready for it! And not in here, please Primus not in here!_

The room had an enormous panorama window, and even if the transparent steel was probably designed to make sure fliers-by couldn’t look in the mere thought that someone _might_ see what was going to happen felt like an icicle through Mirage’s spark. Not to mention the indignity of losing his virginity on someone’s _couch_.

Still, disobedience would irritate the senator, and if he was displeased he may very well go back on his deal with Mercury, and _that_ would cost Mirage a lot more than his dignity.

Very reluctantly the young noble approached the smiling mech on the couch. Putting the highgrade down on a table he then stood there for a moment, unsure of how to proceed. Jubilation solved the problem for him by placing his hands on Mirage’s waist and pulling, giving the other little choice but to move along and straddle the senator’s thighs unless he wanted to fall over. Feeling acutely embarrassed by the intimacy of the position and not really knowing what to do with his hands Mirage finally put them on the older mech’s shoulders and did his best to pretend that the situation was perfectly normal.

“Very good,” Jubilation purred, pulling the blue and white mech closer until their hips were almost touching. “Now, where do you think we should start?”

Before Mirage could even attempt to think of an answer that wasn’t “get away from me!” he felt the other’s arms close around him, pulling him flush against the broad purple chest, and nano-kliks later a pair of lips were pressed against his. An exclamation of protest left him before he could stop it but the sound was muffled by the other’s lips and Jubilation apparently misinterpreted the slight parting of Mirage’s lips as an invitation to deepen the kiss. Which he also did.

It took every ounce of Mirage’s self-control not to push away when the foreign glossa made its way into his oral cavity, tasting and exploring. At the same time one of the senator’s hands slid down his back and came to rest on his aft, gently squeezing the cobalt plating.

Mirage felt panic beginning to rise. The feeling of being trapped was overwhelming and he had no way of escaping. Even if he could, technically, probably wriggle his way out of the other’s grip and possibly even escape the apartment it wouldn’t get him anywhere. Denying the senator would mean defying his sire, and that would get him flogged at best and disavowed if worst came to worst.

Jubilation gave a moan of pleasure, completely immersed in the kiss, and Mirage shuddered. He so didn’t want this, didn’t want this mech to touch him, didn’t want to be intimate with him, a stranger at least three times his own age. But what he wanted or not was obviously not a factor.

“Mmm, you really are delicious, young one,” Jubilation said, finally breaking the kiss with one last lick over Mirage’s lips. “And so attractive. It’s a wonder no-one else has already claimed you.”

Somehow the compliment made Mirage feel even worse, as if he were some kind of collectable that anyone could buy if they just had enough credits.

Jubilation turned his focus to Mirage’s neck cables, kissing, licking and nibbling the sensitive components. Mirage shuddered again and offlined his optics, as if not seeing the senator or the lavish surroundings would somehow make his ordeal easier to bear. Rather than helping him forget, though, the lack of visual input only made the signals from his sensory net all the more pronounced. A faint whimper escaped his vocaliser as his main energon line was sucked on and the sound was met with a chuckle from Jubilation.

“Eager, are we?” the older mech grinned as he leaned back a little, took one hand from Mirage’s aft and brought it up to his face, stroking the line of the pale chin and tracing the young mech’s lips with one finger. “Good, I like that.”

He took one of the younger mech’s hands in his own and guided it downwards, in between them. Mirage experienced a sinking feeling in his chest as he heard a distinct _click_ and resolutely avoided looking down as he was all too certain of what he would see, and he didn’t want to. Soon his fingers came in contact with something warm and of a different texture than the outer plating he’d so far touched. Reflexively he tried to draw his hand away but the senator’s hand over his made it impossible.

“Come on, touch it. No need to be shy, I’m sure you are curious.”

 _No, I’m not!_ Mirage thought, wishing fervently he was anywhere but there. _I don’t want to touch your spike, or even see it!_

But again choice was taken from him as Jubilation pushed the captured hand further down again and then closed it over the ridged, semi-pressurised rod.

The first thing to register in Mirage’s processor was the dimensions of the object in his hand and despite his determination not to look his gaze was drawn downwards to verify what his sensors told him. The conclusion was not encouraging.

_Primus, that thing is never going to fit inside me!_

Of course he didn’t really have anything to compare it to but to the young noble the senator’s spike seemed huge. It was about as long as his hand and even though it was not yet fully pressurised Mirage’s fingers did not reach all the way around it. The knobs and ridges, probably designed to give extra stimulation, made it look like a torture device in Mirage’s optics and if he’d been reluctant to interfacing before he was now flat out terrified.

“Yes, it’s rather impressive, isn’t it?” the older mech said proudly, again mistaking the panicked hitch in Mirage’s vents and the sound of cooling fans engaging to help overstressed systems to cool down for a sign of awe.

Mirage didn’t have the presence of mind to come up with a suitable answer to the rhetorical question, his mind momentarily filled up with horrifying imaginations of pain and valve damage. He therefore barely noticed when Jubilation began moving, languidly pumping his spike with the younger noble’s hand. When Mirage finally did notice a wave of shame washed over him. He was touching another mech’s spike and pleasuring him. It may not be willingly or even of his own accord but it was still his hand on the other’s spike. Primus, how was he ever going to be able to look anyone in the optics again after this?

“That’s good, keep going,” Jubilation said, his voice having taken on a hoarser character with his mounting arousal. Then he removed his hand from Mirage’s, instead using it to pull the younger mech’s helm closer to be able to kiss him again.

Mirage’s first reaction was to let go of the spike but then the senator’s order registered and he reluctantly closed his hand again, carefully squeezing and pumping as best he could on his own. The approving grunts and the way the older mech’s hips began pushing into his touch told him he did a reasonably good job of it, which only increased the feelings of shame.

It seemed like an eternity but was probably no more than a klik or so before Jubilation broke the kiss again and released his grip on Mirage’s neck, allowing the younger mech to straighten back up. When the rolling of the senator’s hips stopped Mirage also paused in his ministrations, although he didn’t dare to remove his hand without permission.

“You are a natural, young one,” Jubilation said. “I’m very much looking forward to seeing what else you have to offer.” He grabbed both of Mirage’s hands and placed them on his thighs, then he pushed the blue and white mech backwards by the hips until he slid down the senator’s shins and ended up standing on his knees on the floor in front of the exposed mech on the couch.

“I do wonder, for instance,” he continued as he placed his hands on Mirage’s helm and began pulling it towards him, ”if you have the same skill with your mouth as with your hands.”

Mirage’s optics flashed in distress as he heard the senator’s words and saw the erect spike standing proudly right in front of him, coming ever closer to his face as he was forced to bend forward.

“Please no, please don’t make me do this.”

The pulling motion stopped even as the grip on his neck tightened marginally and the young noble realised with horror that he had actually spoken those words out loud.

“What did you say?”

Was it imagination or was there suddenly a new edge in the senator’s voice? 

“N-nothing, my lord,” Mirage stammered, desperate to cover his blunder and praying Primus the senator hadn’t actually heard the exact words, “nothing at all, please forgive me.”

The hand on his neck seemed to relax and even stroked a few tightly wound cables in what was probably meant to be a reassuring gesture.

“It’s okay, young one, a little performance anxiety is just normal. Just go ahead, I’m sure I’ll enjoy it.”

Once again Mirage felt that strange urge to laugh hysterically. Performance anxiety, sure, that would be one way to put it. Not exactly the kind the senator was referring to, though. Primus, was the mech really so full of himself that he honestly believed Mirage wanted him and was just nervous about not being able to properly satisfy him?

All thought vanished from his processor as he was gently but firmly pulled forward once more, towards the waiting spike.

“Kiss it.”

Trying hard to pretend that the thing in front of him just some random, inanimate object and not someone’s intimate hardware, Mirage obeyed. Since his total amount of experience so far amounted to what Jubilation had forced upon him he wasn’t quite sure what qualified as ‘kissing’ – was it just the touching of lips or were the suction and glossa parts required as well? – but he tried as best he could to imitate the movements from before, following the ridges that ran down the length of the spike. He carefully avoided getting too close to the tip, fearing the other might take that as an invitation for oral penetration. He had little doubt he would end up there anyway but he could at least try to avoid it.

It worked for all of 36 nanokliks. Then Jubilation shifted a little and put his hand around the spike, practically concealing all but the head.

“Good,” he said, using his free hand to caress the back of the kneeling mech’s helm, “now use your glossa as well.”

Mirage had to fight back a wave of nausea as he saw a few beads of fluid leaking from the tip of the gilded spike. He couldn’t think of _any_ place he would not rather put his glossa, but the order had been issued and again he had no choice but to obey. Leaning further forward again he extended just the tip of his glossa and allowed it to sweep over the head of the spike, trying to avoid the beads of lubrication fluid. The taste registered anyway and he belatedly realised it had been a bad idea to use the tip of his glossa, which was richer in sensors than the other parts. He couldn’t quite define the taste but he knew for sure that he didn’t like it. A lustful groan was heard from above him and once more Mirage shut his optics in shame.

 _Pleasure bot,_ he thought, _I’m behaving like a common pleasure bot._

“Oh yes,” Jubilationmoaned as he began rolling his hips again, pressing his spike first against Mirage’s extended glossa and then against his lips. “You’re doing so well. I can hardly wait to feel your heat around me.” He pulled Mirage’s helm yet a bit closer, adding more pressure as he tried to slip his member in between the younger mech’s lips. Mirage on the other hand did his best to avoid him, the very thought of having someone’s _spike_ in his oral cavity making him nauseous. It was a losing battle, though, and soon he could no longer pretend not to understand what the other mech wanted.

“Come on, open up for me,” the senator insisted, and knowing there was no way out Mirage obeyed.

“That’s it,” Jubilation praised as he pushed forward, letting the tip of his spike enter the inviting opening but not going further than that. “Now, close your lips and suck.”

Mirage had to fight hard against every instinct he had to be able to force himself to do as ordered. The taste of pre-fluids against his glossa was stronger than ever and having the warm, soft-surfaced object between his lips felt so incredibly wrong that he almost lost control.

Jubilation moaned in pleasure as the tip of his spike was teased by the soft, inexperienced lips of the younger mech.

“Oh yes, that’s it,” he said and pushed his hips forward, penetrating a bit deeper. “Keep using you glossa. Stroke me.”

Mirage nearly gagged, even though the intruder was still nowhere near his throat. He felt so incredibly defenceless, exposed and trapped with no possible way out. He made a feeble attempt at following the senator’s latest order but since all he could think of was to get the disgusting thing _out of his mouth_ the resulting movement was definitely more of a pushing nature than stroking.

The senator didn’t seem to mind at all.

“Mmm, that’s good,” he moaned, gripping Mirage’s helm with both hands. Then slowly he started moving it back and forth.

The feeling of the spike sliding against his lips and glossa made Mirage want to purge. His jaw was quickly beginning to ache from the strain of keeping his mouth open wide enough to accommodate the senator and he tried hard not to imagine the consequences if he’d accidentally bite the mech. He prayed with his entire spark for it all to be over soon.

The grunts and groans of pleasure from Jubilation got more and more pronounced and Mirage felt the dynamics of motion change. The senator’s grip on his helm tightened, and instead of bobbing up and down he was now held in place as the older mech started rolling his hips. The senator’s movements were still controlled but slowly increasing in both speed and intensity, and Mirage suddenly realised that his tormentor was probably approaching overload. That thought made his tanks churn even worse. He hadn’t even considered the possibility that the senator might want to _overload_ in his mouth, he’d thought it was just some kind of foreplay. Surely such crudeness was only practiced by the lower classes and not by someone of the senator’s standing.

Right?

However, all input from his sensors seemed to indicate otherwise. The senator’s thrusts were reaching an almost frantic pace and he was no longer as careful about how deep he went, his spike sometimes even brushing the younger mech’s intake.

“Oh yes… oh yes…”

_Please don’t! Please stop!_

All of a sudden the senator stiffened and Mirage felt the spike in his mouth twitch before a jet of something warm landed on his glossa. Again feelings of overwhelming disgust and shame came over the young noble as he took in the fact that he had another mech’s transfluid in his mouth.

Then the grip on his helm was suddenly gone and Mirage reflexively pushed himself away. Stumbling backwards he ended up on all fours, coughing and spluttering as a mix or transfluid and oral lubricant dripped from his lips. Desperate to get rid of the taste he wiped his mouth with one hand, crawled over to the table and grabbed the cube of highgrade he’d left there earlier, taking a large gulp. This time he welcomed the burning sensation; it gave him the illusion of the senator’s release being scorched away from his oral cavity.

It wasn’t until then that his processor caught up with him and he realised somewhat belatedly that the senator might very well have been offended by his reaction. Stealing a quick, frightened glance at Jubilation a slight sob of relief left him when he saw that the older mech sat completely relaxed on the couch, his helm leaned back and still panting slightly, obviously enjoying some kind of post overload haze.

Feelings of shame and defilement once more washed over Mirage. Still on his knees he curled up on himself, arms tightly pressed against his chest, intakes working hard to cool his overstressed systems. So immersed was he in his cloud of misery that he didn’t hear the senator finally rise to his pedes. The sudden touch on his shoulder, gentle though it was, made the young noble jolt as if he’d received an electric shock.

“You did well, young one,” Jubilation said in an almost fatherly tone. “And don’t worry about the mess on the floor, it happens to most the first time. You’ll learn to swallow in time.”

Mirage shuddered at the thought of ever being forced to take the senator’s spike in his mouth again and he prayed fervently that it wouldn’t happen now. He didn’t think he would be able to bear it.

“Come now,” Jubilation said, finding one of Mirage’s hands and pulling him to his pedes. “It’s time we get to the real thing.”

 _Just let me go home, please!_ Mirage cried in his mind as the senator led him into another room. Even though he had expected it, seeing the huge, lavish berth almost made his knees give out under him.

 _Please, I don’t want this! I can’t take it, leave me alone!_ He wanted so bad to speak the words out loud but every time they rose to his vocalizer he saw his sire’s stern face in front of him and heard the unyielding voice instructing him to behave, or else. And the protests remained unspoken.

Feeling like a mech walking to his own execution he let himself be led to the berth. Half petrified with terror and having no idea whatsoever what he was expected to do he came to a standstill when they reached it and it took two “encouraging” pushes from Jubilation before he could make himself climb onto the softly padded surface. The senator was quick to follow and soon Mirage found himself on his back, looking up into the excited face of the older mech straddled over his hips.

For a moment the two of them just sat like that, one savouring the moment and full of anticipation, the other terrified and tense to the point of snapping. Then Jubilation placed his hands on Mirage’s shoulders, leaned forward and kissed him.

The touch of the older mech’s lips burned like acid on his plating and Mirage felt his entire frame begin to shiver as the weight of the other frame pressed him further into the padding.

“Relax, young one,” the senator said, his tone half amused, half admonishing. “You need not worry, I shall be gentle.”

_I don’t want you to ‘be gentle,’ I want you to leave me alone!_

Jubilation resumed his kissing, eventually leaving the younger mech’s mouth to start a slow journey downwards. Hands, lips and glossa all seemed eager to experience every surface of the lithe blue and white frame. Mirage bit his lower lip to stop himself from sobbing and dug his fingers into the berth padding, desperate for something that was not the other mech to cling on to. Each flick of the senator’s glossa, each caress from his hands seemed to carve a hole in Mirage’s very spark, and yet he did not dare to protest.

He could not, however, hold back a whimper as he felt the senator’s hands push his thighs apart and then start massaging his interface panel.

“Come on, young one,” Jubilation coaxed, bending down to nibble a bundle of cables in the gap between the younger mech’s leg and pelvic armour. “Retract your panel, let me see your hardware.”

Mirage tried to obey, he really did, but his frame just wouldn’t listen. The tremendous emotional stress made his self-preservation coding go haywire, and since exposing your interface equipment was not a thing you’d normally do while in that state of mind it simply intercepted the commands Mirage’s processor sent and killed them.

“Come now, there’s no need to be shy,” the senator pressed, then added with a grin: “Or are you going to play hard to get with me, hm? Then I guess I’ll just have to try… a bit… harder.”

He accentuated the words by digging his fingers in under the edge of Mirages panel, applying a little more force with every word.

It worked. The fear of the pain involved in having his panel actually torn open gave Mirage the strength to override the self-preservation coding and release the locking mechanism, allowing the plating to shift and slide back.

“There, now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Jubilation said, sounding pleased. He released a gust of hot air from his vents over the exposed components, then put his glossa to work.

Mirage turned his helm away and struggled to ignore the sensory input from between his thighs. Every gentle touch of glossa, lips or fingers burned, the wrongness of it all making him hurt in ways physical pain had never done. How could the mech keep doing this, how could he not see and feel Mirage’s apprehension? And why, oh Primus why had Mercury put him in this situation?

“Mmm, so enticing,” Jubilation purred, circling the rims of the sealed valve with his glossa one last time before sitting back. Mirage dared a quick glance and saw the older mech pull a small tube out of subspace.

“You are no doubt already wet behind that seal but this will make the experience even sweeter,” the senator said in way of explanation, squeezing a gel-like substance from the tube onto his fingers. Another full frame shudder went through Mirage when those same fingers began massaging the outer parts of his valve and seal, soaking the fine mesh and making it slick. He knew he should probably be grateful for every little factor that may reduce the upcoming pain but he couldn’t bring himself to feel anything but shame and fear. Shuttering his optics he bit his lip again, trying to keep silent, but even so a tiny whimper escaped his vocalizer at the unfamiliar and unwelcome touch.

“Still eager, hm?” Jubilation stated with a deep chuckle. “You really are delightfully responsive. I hope you stay that way. You could very well end up one of my favourites.”

 _Stop talking, please!_ Mirage screamed in his mind, fighting to hold back tears. _I can’t bear it!_ He wished he could just take his audials offline – along with the rest of his sensory systems, preferably – but he knew that wasn’t an option. The senator would undoubtedly notice and in all likelihood take offence.

_Behave, or else._

He felt the other mech’s mass shift and suddenly Jubilation was on top of him again, catching his chin and pressing another kiss on his lips. Then he felt something push against the entrance of his valve.

All conscious thought left Mirage at that point. His arms moved of their own accord, pushing weakly at the senator’s chest, while his panicked ”please don’t!” was turned into a garbled moan by the senator’s kiss.

The pressure against his seal rose and fell as Jubilation’s hips moved in shallow thrusts, until the thin membrane finally ruptured from the stress, allowing the older mech’s spike to slide in a little bit further before it was stopped by the sheer tightness of the channel.

The senator finally took his lips from Mirage’s, letting out a loud moan of bliss.

“Primus, you are tightly configured,” he panted, withdrawing somewhat only to instantly push back in, getting a little deeper with each thrust. “Hah, feels so good.”

Mirage lay completely still, frame frozen and processor close to glitching from emotional overload. His optics were wide and unnaturally bright, staring unseeingly at an undefined spot in the ceiling. The strange, burning sensation from his valve barely registered at all but did add to the overall feeling of absolute wrongness. His vents had turned short, shallow and irregular and his lips moved as if he was trying to talk, only no sound left them.

“Mmm, feels great, doesn’t it?” Jubilation said, voice hoarse with pleasure as he kept pushing more and more of his spike into the younger noble’s valve, the tightness almost painful but so utterly arousing. His hands sought and found Mirage’s, twining their fingers together as he brought them up to rest near the blue and white mech’s helm. “You look so exquisite like this, all blissed out and ready for pleasure. I shall enjoy giving it to you.”

With that he dove in for another deep kiss, even as his trusts increased in speed and force.

And all Mirage could do was keen in silence as his world was torn to shreds.

***

It was nearly dawn by the time Mirage was returned home, properly escorted by one of Jubilation’s servants. The young noble’s movements were stiff and jerky as he stepped over the threshold and even though he knew that he’d been meticulously cleaned and polished before leaving the senator’s place he felt filthier than he ever had in his entire life. He was exhausted to his very struts, several parts of his frame ached uncomfortably and all he wanted was to escape to his rooms, shut the world out and cry for a decacycle.

His hopes were foiled before he even reached the other end of the hall as one of his sire’s servants appeared through one of the side doors.

“My lord, your sire is expecting you in his office at once.”

Mirage barely managed to contain the sob that rose to his vocalizer. He didn’t want to see anyone right now, least of all his sire. He knew he was on the verge of a complete breakdown and the thought of suffering it where someone might see filled him with horror, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to ignore the summons. Straining to find some last hidden strand of self-control he nodded at the servant and made his way to his sire’s office.

As expected Mercury was waiting for him when he arrived. There were no chairs in the room except for the one his sire was occupying, leaving Mirage little choice but to remain standing, tired and sore though he was. Resolutely gritting his dentae the young mech locked his knee joints, kept his gaze low and waited to be acknowledged, hoping against hope that his sire just wanted to confirm that he was okay before dismissing him again.

In hindsight he knew he should have known better.

“Well?”

The single word almost sounded like an accusation and Mirage cringed, having no idea what he was supposed to say.

“Was he pleased?”

Of course that would be the only thing that mattered, Mirage thought bitterly. This had been a business deal after all. He had to reset his vocalizer to be able to reply.

“I think so, sire,” he mumbled, optics still fixed on the floor and struggling to rein in the violent storm of emotions in his spark.

“How many times did he overload?”

Mirage’s engine did a little hiccoughing sound and once more he had to reset his vocalizer to be able to speak.

“P… p…pardon?” he stammered.

Mercury made a small sound of annoyance.

“I need to know how much he valued this session, so I know how much I can expect in return,” he explained impatiently, apparently not the least bit perturbed by his son’s obvious discomfort with the subject. “So, how many times did he overload?”

_I don’t want to think about it!_

“Five.”

“Inside you?”

 _Please stop asking, I can’t take it!_.

“Yes.”

“Good. Where?”

 _This is not happening!_ Mirage’s mind screamed in humiliated protest, stress levels hiking even higher. _He can’t expect me to talk about this!_

“Well?”

“M…mouth once,” the younger mech stammered, “then valve.”

_Stop asking, please, stop asking!_

“Did he take you in his berth?”

  _Shut up!_

 “Yes.”

“What other places?”

 Mirage raised his gaze for a moment, giving his sire a pleading look but was met only with steely determination.

 “First… living room, then… wash racks… after.”

  _Please!_

 “What did he seem to enjoy the most?”

 On and on the questions went and for each one Mirage felt as if yet another part of him died. When he was finally dismissed almost half a joor later his processor was throbbing and his legs barely carried him. Vision strangely tunnel-shaped and staggering like a drunk he still somehow managed to find his way to his private rooms, key the door open and then lock it with the highest encryption available.

 He remembered nothing more after that.

 ***

It was not until four orns later, when Mirage failed to show up at a social gathering of his sire’s, that anyone important enough to have the right to ask even noticed that the young mech had not yet been seen outside of his suite.

Mercury was annoyed. He’d had plans for the evening that had been somewhat derailed by his son’s absence, and though no real harm had been done he did not like to be disobeyed. To make it even worse Mirage had refused to acknowledge any comm calls.

Having decided to deal with the problem in person Mercury was therefore heading for the young mech’s quarters at a quick pace, already preparing a verbal dressing-down and a lecture about irresponsible behaviour in his processor. Once there he didn’t even bother to knock or otherwise announce his arrival, just used his personal access code that opened every door in the house to gain entry.

The room was just dimly lit and at a first glance seemed to be empty. As Mercury raised the lights to 100% something stirred in one of the corners however, and his optics were instantly drawn in that direction.

Mirage sat curled up on the floor, his arms around his knees, and seemed to be staring at some undefined spot in front of his pedes. His optics were dim and his plating dull, as if he hadn’t energized in days. Around him the floor was strewn with polishing rags, solvent bottles, bits of steel wool and a couple of different sanding tools.

“Mirage, what in the name of Primus are you doing?”

When there was no reply, or even an indication that he’d been heard Mercury grabbed his son by one arm and dragged him to his pedes, shaking him as if wanting to provoke a reaction.

“Young mech, you will stand up and look at me when I’m talking to you!”

Slowly, as if he wasn’t all there, Mirage straightened from his stooped position and lifted his helm to meet his sire’s gaze.

For a full ten nanokliks the two mechs just stared at each other.

“What. Have. You. Been. Doing?” Mercury finally said, stressing every word and with barely controlled anger.

Mirage had to reset his vocaliser twice before he could answer.

“Just… tried to get clean,” he mumbled and averted his optics, looking instead at his hands, hands that had been scrubbed until coating, paint and even primer was gone, exposing bare metal. “The stains wouldn’t go away.”

Mercury’s optics swept up and down the frame of his son again, tanks churning as he took in the ugly streaks of grey marring the once pristine paint of the younger mech’s pelvic area, hands and lower face. Then he did something he had never done before.

He struck his son. Hard.

“How dare you!” he hissed as Mirage staggered backwards from the force of the blow. “How dare you risk all the work I’ve done, behaving like a whimpering, spoiled little _sparkling!_? You are a noble, Mirage – _you_ never _wear your emotions on the outside!_ And more important still, _you never let your emotions rule you!_ I thought I had raised you better than this. You are supposed to be an asset to the family, do what you’re told and do your very best to be perfect, _always_.”

Mirage was leaning against the wall, shocked both by the blow and the viciousness in his sire’s voice. He was ashamed to be the cause of it but still felt a need to somehow explain himself.

“But… I can’t. Not anymore. I’m… ruined.”

Mercury snorted.

“That should be of no concern to you, unless I had stated otherwise. But if the seal is what this moping is all about I’ll have you know that I’ve already arranged for a specialist to install a new one on you once Jubilation loses interest. No one will ever know.”

Mirage knew that he should be grateful that his disgrace would be possible to conceal but instead the suggestion just made him feel sordid.

“I’ll know,” he mumbled, optics once more fixed on his hands, not daring to look up.

“Yes, obviously,” Mercury said impatiently, “but as long as no one else does it doesn’t matter. You can still be of use for a decent bonding contract.” He looked his son over again, not bothering to hide his disgust at what he saw. “Now, stop sulking, call you servants and have them restore your paint and finish. I don’t ever want to see you like this again, understood?”

Mirage shrank back even further but gave a slight nod in acceptance.

“I did not hear you,” Mercury said coldly. “Is. That. Understood?”

“Yes, sire,” Mirage said quietly, his entire demeanour signalling defeat and such a deep level of _hurt_ that any decent mech would have wanted to reach out and offer comfort. Unfortunately such kind sparks were few and far between in their caste and the only other mech present definitely didn’t fall into that category.

“Good,” Mercury said. “Report to my office as soon as you are fit to be seen again. Jubilation has expressed his desire to see you again and I promised you’d be brought over as soon as could be arranged.”

With that the elder mech turned on his heels and marched out of his creation’s quarters, not once bothering to look back.

***

The mech that exited those same quarters six joors later was barely recognisable as the huddled, distressed mess of a creature that had been left there earlier. His paint was now perfect, his shine exquisite, and he moved with the relaxed grace that could only come from natural talent or endless orns of practice. His bearing was straight and proud and he looked every bit the young noblemech he was.

Only one who knew him very well, and cared to look, might have realised that the colour of his optics was slightly off, and that the air of studied nonchalance was not that of a mech convinced of his own superiority but one born of complete indifference.

Reporting to his sire’s office as ordered he listened to the breem-long lecture without reacting or speaking except when he was expected to, then obediently went with the servant that would drive him to the senator’s place. Once there he announced his presence to the senator without feeling anything, his frame moving on autopilot as he accepted the welcoming drink, conversed casually about nothing in particular and submitted himself to the mech’s hungry looks and, very soon afterwards, kisses. The exploring, groping hands registered as ‘touch’, nothing more or less, and even when he was pushed down on his back on the berth with the older mech between his thighs the only conscious thought running through his processor was ‘obligation’.

No anger. No hatred. No revulsion.

After all, why should such a trivial thing as the violation of his frame matter to a mech who was already dead at spark?

 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are very much appreciated.


End file.
